First Impressions
by Serena Bancroft
Summary: Jessica Angell's life at the New Jersey PD has ended, but her journey at the NYPD has just begun. 2-shot on how Jess got to New York. Part of 'Warmness on the Soul'.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a repost of my 'first Impressions' story. I kept rereading and rereading and just found myself getting really really really annoyed with it, so I changed things up a bit and boom, here we go. I'm adding a bit more depth and changing a few things. That's all. Oh, and my series has officially been renamed 'Warmness on the Soul' after an Avenged Sevenfold song that I absolutely adore. Maybe swing by youtube and take a listen...**

"Sinclair," he answered the phone with a tired brusqueness that would normally be associated with a New York cop who always seemed to have too much on his plate. Not that he was a cop any more. Although, he'd much rather have that position rather than be chief of detectives. When he'd gotten the promotion, it sounded like a good deal. But now, he realized belatedly, all he pretty much did was fill out paperwork and deal with politics and media. Real fun stuff.

Not to mention that more than half of this paperwork had to do with the explosion two weeks ago. One of his best first-grades had nearly been blown to pieces, and the man barely held on. Sinclair was relieved when he learned that Flack would be discharged within the week. To add insult to injury, another first grade was out on maternity leave, another was in Indonesia, and the caseload was backed up so much, that many of his detectives were pulling triple, even quadruple shifts. He wanted to just order them to go home, but they needed the manpower.

"Howdee-doo, Brigs. Miss me?" The voice of old friend Chief Matthew O'Malley met his ears over the telephone. He knew Matt from when the were young studs at the police academy in New York City. After graduation, however, the Tennessee-born redhead was offered a job with the New Jersey PD, and he'd taken it. The friends had tried to keep up over the years, but the distance had taken a toll on their friendship.

"Hey, Matt. What're you up to lately?"

"Eh, not much. The usual. Makin' the world go aroun' by means of paperwork." Matt's distinct, heavy Tennessee accent had faded somewhat, but it was still evident in his voice.

"I hear you."

"So listen, as happy as I am to chitchat wit' ya, I have an actual reason I called."

"Oh really? Since when does Matt O'Malley ever have a purpose?" asked Sinclair with a laugh.

"Hm. Ya know, I ain't real sure." He paused for a beat before Matt spoke again. "I have this officer, and well, I need a place fo' her to go."

Sinclair noted the weird, drawn out way he said 'her'. "You don't think she's competent?"

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She a damn fine uni, that's fo' sure. But since she been aroun', a lot of my guys have... taken their eyes off the prize and put em' on a different one, if you catch my drift."

Sinclair rubbed his forehead. "What's her name?" His question sounded a little hesitant. Not that he was against women on the force, he just was not in the mood for this conversation at the time. _Sign us. _He could almost hear the paperwork whispering to him. He ignored the state of his mental health for the time being.

"Officer Jessica Angell."

Sinclair's ears perked at the name. Angell. "No relation to Cliff Angell?"

"Daughter. None of his four sons wanted to be a cop, so his daughter gets to uphold the legacy," he answered in a voice that screamed subtext. _Yeah right._ "What are the odds? He goes an' has four boys an' none of em' wanna catch bad guys."

"Mmm hmm," Sinclair answered mindlessly. After shoving aside a few mountains of unfilled out paperwork, Sinclair put his phone on speaker and quickly looked up this officer on the computer sitting on his desk. Her record popped up, as well as a service picture. Matt was right about one thing. She was extremely attractive. Even in the service picture, which could reduce many gorgeous women to looking like 90 year old grandmothers. Her skin was lightly tanned, and her brown eyes were warm. Her lips were quirked into an amused, almost knowing smile. Her brunette locks fell in soft waves past her shoulders.

"See what I mean?" Matt said, his voice having a mocking undertone.

"Yeah. But... You basically want to transfer her to New York because the guys on your force can't focus."

"When you say it like that, I soun' like a douchebag. But that ain't the only reason. The city is cuttin' back fundin' for the department. I've had to fire a lot of our uni's these past months. She's just..." He paused, sighing quietly. "I'm pretty good friends with her dad, and he'd throw a hissy fit if I fired her. I heard about that bomb too. How's Flack doin'?"

"We're not really sure yet. Doctors say he's stable, but it's still pretty touch and go. They're gonna release him this week."

"Well, better that than dead, right?" Sinclair shuddered at the brusque way Matt could brush off the possibility of Flack's death. " Anyway, I thought maybe she could take on Flack's caseload while he's down. She's logged more overtime hours than anybody, workin' for that promotion the good ol' fashion' way an' pullin' no favors."

Sinclair leaned back in his chair, covering his eyes with his hands. He kept trying to tell himself that he had no obligation. He could refuse and tell Matt he couldn't do it. He could tell him no, go on with his life, and never think about this Angell girl ever again. But he gazed at his computer screen. She looked so hopeful. With bloodlines like hers, she'd probably be one hell of a detective... Not only that, but the ranks of his department were shaking like an unstable Jenga tower missing a vital piece. The bomb had caused a ruckus, not only with talk of terrorists, but with the blowing up of one of the best NYPD detectives they'd had. Don Flack was still convalescent in the ICU, and doctors were 'cautiously optimistic' as they'd put it. Logically, Sinclair knew that he would have to find a replacement, at least temporary, for the downed detective. He didn't even want to consider finding a permanent replacement.

He began to talk while a whirl of thoughts about the explosion and the injured Flack scrambled his brains. "She can tail Detective Nick Benton for a while, after that, she can leave her uni behind and become a detective. I'll have to check with a few higher ups, but other than that..."

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

It was hot that day. Officer Angell was literally melting in the heat. Her black uniform clung to her skin, feeling like wool and sticking with the salty perspiration. She sat at her desk, cursing the city for cutting funding, and the cheap-ass chief turning off the air conditioning to save money. Outside was at least one hundred degrees, so that meant that inside, it felt like two hundred. Jessica would've given almost anything to drag herself to the locker rooms to take a shower, but, being the only woman currently in the unit, it would be disastrous. The members of the male gender seemed to like using the 'falling from heaven' line, and ogling her body whenever she wasn't looking. Curse the mixed locker room.

She pulled her long, dark hair back into a messy ponytail, using an elastic that she always kept around her wrist. Her hair felt damp and stringy with perspiration. "Angell,"

She turned to the voice of her boss, Chief Matthew O'Malley. O'Malley was a good chief. Fair, treated everyone with respect, and wasn't afraid to stick up for his officer when something was questioned. For the men, anyway. Years of being a desk jockey had taken their toll on the once muscular detective. He'd developed a slight beer-belly, and his arms were a little bit on the flabby side. His red hair was combed and slicked back, indicating his inability to let go of trends from years past, and his mustache perfectly groomed- as always. He looked every bit a stereotypical police chief would. The only thing he needed now was one of those comically large pipes. He stood at the door to his office, waving her over. She heaved herself up, and walked over to his office, her combat boots thudding heavily on the tile floors.

"Come in."

She followed him, sitting in a leather chair across from his desk. A fan blew, making her damp hair rustle softly, cooling her steamy skin for an instant. She had a wickedly terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that she wouldn't like the news that she was about to hear. She wasn't an idiot, and she saw the numbers falling. She knew the city and state were making spending cuts. She was a lowly street cop- no real pull with authority figures. She was expendable, and she knew it. Each day, more and more desks that had been inhabited one day were were vacant the next. Larry Herricks- one of her only good friends on the force- who'd sat in the desk next to hers, had been laid off. He and his wife had just had a baby. Little kid's name was Brady. She'd been at the baptism.

"Yes, sir?" She may be worried, but she hadn't forgotten her manners.

"I'm sure you're seen of all the cuts I've had to make."

"I'm well aware of the situation, sir." She answered politely. Her lips thinned, and she ground her teeth together. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut. She was getting fired or laid off. She kept waiting for the words she knew she was going to hear.

"I was told by the department to let you go."

She tried yoga breathing her sister-in-law had taught her, but it didn't help. _This is it. I'm finished._ Jessica thought.

"But I made arrangements wit' a friend to have you transferred to the New York Police Department. You know about the bomb, 'course, but it took out of of their best first grades, and they need someone to cover his caseload. He's got you set up to become a detective and not a uni." He paused. "Only if you want it, of course. I don't want to make you feel obligated-"

"I want it." She answered, her voice deadly even. "I want the job." She'd fiercely wanted to become a detective, and had logged more overtime hours than anyone else in the Jersey PD to get the promotion. She liked being a street cop, but she'd always wanted to be a detective, just like her dad had been.

After working out a few details that Jessica hardly remembered, she was dismissed to start packing her things. She felt like she was in a fog- a happy mist that had settled over her brain

Officer Pritchett, one of her more annoying admirers, passed by, a file folder in his hand. She expected an inappropriate remark, like usual, but instead his voice was quiet and serious. "Did you get canned?"

She looked up from a box that held a few of her personal affects to look at him to make sure he wasn't setting up a joke or something. She saw only concern in his eyes. "No, Pritch, I didn't. I'm getting transferred to New York."

Something that looked vaguely like jealously flashed through his eyes for an instant. She knew everyone was worried about the current job situation, and her getting transferred was probably held to the same standard as Jesus raising someone from the dead. "Good for you," he stated curtly before turning on his heel and heading off in the direction of his desk.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

"Hi, Jessie," Cliff Angell said through the telephone. Jessica lamented the fact that he couldn't be here in New Jersey with her to guide her through this transfer. _But he's not, and you're a big girl, _Jessica mentally reminded herself. She sat on a box in her apartment, filled with a small items from her apartment. She was suddenly very happy she wasn't a social person. She didn't have a lot in her apartment- a few bits of furniture she'd collected over the years, a couple quilts her grandma made her years back, a dinosaur-age Mac computer, three or four pictures pictures of her family, a couple books, a few guns that she kept around her apartment, plus her stuff from the precinct, and it all fit in four boxes.

"Hi, Dad."

"How's it going?" His voice turned concerned, "I've heard about the spending cuts. Have you heard anything about your job?"

"Actually that's what I was calling you about." She heard him gasp on the other line, obviously expecting the worse. "I'm getting transferred to New York."

Cliff literally shouted with joy. He was so thankful his daughter hadn't gotten laid off, or worse. She heard him yelling something to Karen, his girlfriend. Jess stiffened a little. Karen had been nothing but kind to her since she'd come into her father's life, but Jess was never comfortable with any of her father's girlfriends.

"My stuff's all packed up, I've rented a U-Haul, and already set up a lease at some apartment complex in the city."

Cliff went on to give her the infamous 'Safety and You: An Angell Family Guide for Survival Outside the Home' speech. Jessica had just rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine," Jessica interrupted uncomfortably when the word 'condoms' came into the conversation.

There was a moment of silence. "I know. Call if you need anything," he said softly.

"I will. I'll call you when I get there." They said their goodbyes, and Jess hung up. Then, she promptly yanked the cord out of the wall, and stuffed the phone into the remaining box. After sealing it with packing tape, she ate the remaining thing left in her beat up refrigerator made before she was born- cold, pepperoni pizza from the little pizzeria down the block. She ate on the floor, a box as a table, the only sounds being that of a busy city from outside her window.


	2. Chapter 2

Harsh buzzes interrupted her slumber, coming from the alarm clock next to her bed. Well, bed probably isn't the right word. The sorry excuse of a bed was actually an air mattress with an old sleeping bag on it. Jessica still had yet to set up any of her furniture. Most of her belongings sat in the living room, awaiting unpacking from boxes (not that it looked like a living room, per se. It was the largest room, so that's what she assumed it was.)

She tiredly hit the OFF button. Angell had learned shortly after moving out that the snooze button was not a good idea (especially since she ended up hitting it about 20 times whenever she used it.) She sat up, unzipping her constricted form from the confines of the sleeping bag. She stumbled into the bathroom, where a few essentials had found a place on the shelves of the cabinet. Asprin, toothbrush, toothpaste, chapstick, hairbrush, and a small vial of mascara were behind the small mirrored door of the tiny cabinet.

She splashed cool water on her face, looking at herself without the sleepy haze. Her hair looked as though some animal had died on top of her head. The chocolate brown hair stuck up impossibly high in many places, and Angell picked up her brush and started sweeping it through her tangled locks.

Amidst the ongoing quandary with her hair, a smile was plastered to her face and butterflies were having a drunken party in her stomach. Jessica's first day as a homicide detective. She was so happy. She'd worked her ass of for a promotion in Jersey City, and never got it. Everyone in the precinct, probably the whole city, knew how many overtime hours she had logged. If she'd spent all her overtime hours on her actual life, Angell probably could've driven to Montreal to visit Dad and Karen about a hundred times. She felt like she was finally getting the recognition she deserved, and someone was actually acknowledging the fact that, yes, she was a woman, and yes, she deserved to be a homicide detective more than anyone else.

Her hair finally fell in the natural loose waves around her face. Angell moved onto her teeth, attacking them with Colgate Total.

She wanted to make a good first impression on her new colleagues. Jessica sincerely doubted she'd be the only woman on the force this time. Maybe there'd even be separate female/male locker rooms. She shook her head. Nah, the perks only go so far. After she sang 'Happy Birthday' in her head, twice, as her mother had taught her when she was a girl and obviously never let go of, she rinsed off the toothbrush, replacing it in the three-fourths empty holder. Angell made her way back to her "bedroom" where, the night before, she'd hung her outfit. White blouse, black blazer and dress pants, and a killer pair of four-inch black heels one of her best friends, Millie, had given her this weekend, and Angell was pretty certain she'd be regretting wearing them by the end of the day. She got dressed in a matter of minutes, put on a few dabs of mascara, and grabbed her purse before heading out the door.

**. . . . . . . .**

After finding a Starbucks, and then getting lost twice, Angell finally managed to find the station. She parked her car in a random space that she hoped fervently wasn't special in any way, and walked towards the doors. It wasn't so much as a walk as an awkward jog, seeing as how she was two minutes late.

Her heels clicked on the cement as she neared the door. Angell precariously balanced on the heels, coffee and purse in hand. She could literally see the doors in front of her. She was about to reach out when she hit something. Angell heard a grunt in response to her impact and began cursing in her head. _Of course_, Angell thought, _of course I would run into a person on my first day. Of. Freaking. Course._ When Angell hit the pavement, one of those swears she'd been mentally chanting slipped out, "Fuck it!" The fall itself didn't hurt. It's just that her $4.50 Starbucks was now on the ground, and most likely on the person she ran into. Not to mention that half of her purse's contents were now strewn across the ground, right in front of the precinct.

_This is exactly the way I wanted to start my new job_, she thought sarcastically,_ falling on my ass and spilling coffee_. "God damn it," Angell said again. She got herself on her hands and knees, and quickly scrabbled to where her purse and belongings lay, throwing them in haphazardly.

Angell stood herself up, trying not to make eye contact with the stranger she'd run into. Angell searched the ground for the coffee cup, only to find a large puddle of the overly-expensive liquid on the ground. "Shit, where did that go?" She'd never been fond of polluting.

Then she looked up and saw her cup in the hands of said stranger. Angell looked up to meet their eyes, babbling apologies as she went. "Oh my god, I'm really sorry. I'm in a hurry, and its my first day and I'm late, and I got lost twice and now m-" Her words caught in her throat when her eyes met his. Angell swore that she'd never seen a more piercing blue in her life. It felt as though he saw straight through her. Her throat felt as if it were clogged by molasses as she stared into his eyes. Angell found her voice again after what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only a fraction of a second, "my coffee's on the ground. So, I'm sorry, again."

"Don't worry about it." Her eyes flicked over his suit covered form, and she tried her damnest not to stare too long. The man was obviously built, and Angell had to literally tear her gaze away from his perfect body, evident even while hidden under the stiff suit. She returned her gaze to his face, his expression a mix of amusement and kindness.

Angell smiled at him, her eyes still glued on his. "Well, I better be going. I'm four minutes late now."

He chuckled as she forced herself to rip her eyes away from him as Angell turned away and sprinted for the doors.

**. . . . . . . . . .**

Angell sat in her new desk, poring over a case file, but she was content. Sure, her first day had been as shitty as most first days were: not knowing anyone, calling everyone by wrong names, constantly getting lost, going on mapquest for every outing, and googling every New York term she was unfamiliar with. What the hell is a hairbag, anyway?

But everyone was pretty cool in New York. Angell met all the CSI's today. She didn't have the luxury of having many in Jersey, and had to leave nearly all the scientific stuff to their grand total of two lab techs. She was also very happy to see that Detective Benton, who was her 'mentor' of sorts, was a good guy who reminded her a lot of O'Malley. He was definitely one of those old-timers who would always be on the force: black hair that was gradually turning silver, and receding surprisingly fast, stocky, with a slight bulge for a stomach. And for obvious reasons, kept calling Angell 'kid'.

The day was pretty much over- but she sat at my desk, enthralled by it all. Detective. Angell was looking over a Polaroid of a crime scene, marking a few things for double-checking tomorrow. Her hair kept falling in her face, and she tucked it behind her ears before it fell right back into the same place all over again. Angell heard a wolf whistle from her left, and figured it was probably one of the many men who'd ogled her today. She was immensely glad she wasn't the only woman on the force, but obviously, Angell was the 'shiny new toy' (as Kaile Maka had so put it) that all the guys wanted to get their hands on. Without looking up, she simply stated, "If you do not move your eyes, I will have to move them for you."

"Did it hurt?"

"If you are going to say 'when you fell from heaven,' I will not only move your eyes, but I will shove them up your own ass," she hissed, finally looking up. Two detectives whose names Angell had learned but had promptly forgotten were standing a little ways off, one really tall and skinny, and the other pretty short and very chubby. They didn't look deterred by her threat. In fact, it made them look somewhat more carnivorous. _Playing hard to get. _Angell could almost hear their thoughts aloud, they were so damn obvious.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? I just wanna show you heaven on earth," the tall one said with a dopey smile on his face.

"Was I not clear?"

"We've got a live one here, Rick," the fat one jeered.

Angell moved her gaze to the short one. Angell imagined if looks could kill, he'd be dead now. His expression told her as much. "Maybe I'll spare your eyes and use your balls instead," she said with a smile of twisted kindness on her face. Angell's gaze returned to the Polaroid. These guys weren't even worth the breath it would take to speak to them. Angell also contemplated taking her piece out and shooting them with it, but figured she'd quickly get fired for shooting another officer. She felt another goofy grin creep over her face. Not officer, detective.

They continued their sexual comments, trying to bate Angell into talking to them. She decided she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. She reached down into a drawer where her iPod was sitting, one concession that she'd grudging bought herself a few months ago at the urging of some friends. After jamming the earbuds in her ears, she skimmed over the playlist before settling on Bat Country by Avenged Sevenfold. _Can't you help me as I'm starting to burn, _Angell hummed along as she circled, tallied, and scribbled on her notes. She flipped to another Polaroid. Angell felt bad about this one. A sixteen year old girl was found beaten, raped and murdered on Staten Island. Dark bruises stood out against her pale flesh, and the white dress she wore was torn into ribbons and soaked with blood.

She shoved emotion down, turned her iPod's volume up higher, and began confirming tagged evidence, logging it into the official records. She lost myself in the music combined with the menial task, and when the songs began to repeat, she looked up to find Rick and his little sidekick gone. In turn, she looked out the windows- dark. Angell glanced at the clock before gathering up her personal items. It had been a long day and she was eager to go home and sleep. Angell was about to get up when she heard a few voices from across the room, her eyes looking for the source.

"Glad to have you back, Flack." Angell was glad to see it was Kaile Maka- a first grade Asian detective who she'd hit it off with right away- speaking and not the two partners in crime she'd chatted with earlier. Angell vaguely remembered agreeing to meet her for drinks. Angell's feeble hopes of sleep diminished.

"I'm not technically back. I've got desk duty for two months." Angell looked away from Kaile and was taken aback. Angell had seen a lot of attractive guys in her day. She has dated a lot of attractive guys. She has slept with a lot of attractive guys. But this one... surpassed the others by eons. He had short dark hair that Angell suddenly had the urge to run her fingers through, and one hell of a body beneath that suit. Her muscles twitched to go and just tackle him. _Whoa, there, Jessica._ She told herself in reprimand. She could appreciate his looks without getting sexual, right? Then Angell studied his face and saw the eyes. The piercing, ice blue eyes that made her shiver when she looked at them, and she realized this man was the one she'd run into this morning and made a fool out of herself in front of. Oh. Shit.

"Damn. I miss your legendary wit and candor while working in the field," Maka said sarcastically, a wry smile plastered on her face.

"And I've missed yours," Sexy Man said, playing along with a smile. The way his lips curved up into a smile fascinated Angell for no apparent reason. If someone else had been herself, Angell imagined she would've snapped her fingers in front of their face. She tried to rip my gaze away from him before she started drooling. And wouldn't that be lovely, pared with the fact that she'd already run into him and fell down in a not so alluring manner.

She tried to refocus her attention on the case at hand, but found herself sneaking glances in his direction. Whenever Kaile said something funny, which was often, his laugh would carry over to the new detective, and shivers would zing up Angell's spine. She couldn't believe a guy who she'd barely even met, she didn't even know his name, had so much effect on her. Angell began to close up the case file, realizing she would get no work done while Mr. Hot Stuff was in the same room.

Angell was almost hoping to sneak into the locker room without Kaile noticing her. Normally, Angell would've been gung ho about meeting this guy, and flirting with him like there was no tomorrow. That's not saying option was not appealing, but she felt like a schoolgirl when she looked at him. Angell felt a blush laying in wait, waiting for the perfect moment to plant itself on her face at the most awkward time. _Plus, he'd probably give you a lot of shit for falling this morning_, she thought to herself. Most men like to store those tidbits of information away in their brains as ammunition of later conversation. As soon as she slid her chair, as slowly and softly as she could, out from under her desk to stand, Maka's gaze focused on Angell. Damn her good hearing.

"Angell, come here!" Maka waved the reluctant detective over, and she groaned inwardly. Angell had the urge to pretend she hadn't heard Maka because of her iPod, but she quickly reminded myself who she was. She was Jessica Angell, 'I-can-run-with-the-guys' extraordinaire. The aforementioned detective gently plucked the earbuds from her ears, tossing them, along with her iPod, onto her desk. It was all she could do to ignore Sexy Man's eyes following her as she walked over and not trip over her own feet. "What's up?" Angell tried to be nonchalant about her greeting, and not look into those sharp blue eyes that she could feel on herself.

Maka gestured to Sexy Man. "Angell, Detective Don Flack. Flack, Detective Jessica Angell."

Don Flack. The name emblazoned itself on her brain, and she wouldn't have been able to forget it, even if she'd wanted to. Don stood, holding his hand out. Jessica reminded herself to breath and that she was quite possibly looking at the sexiest man alive and to not let this opportunity go to waste. She recognized the name Don Flack, and would've guessed that 'Jr.' was behind it. Her father had worked with Don Flack, Sr. quite often, seeing as how close their states were to each other. When Angell had worked in Jersey, they'd often had to work closely with the NYPD on cases. Of course, she'd been a uniformed cop- it was the detectives who did the real investigating. Her father and Don Sr. had grown to be pretty good friends whilst they lived in Jersey. They'd worked together on many cases that traveled over our close borders. They must've continued a somewhat social relationship when they weren't working together, because Jessica remembers seeing Don, Sr. at her mother's funeral. She remembers seeing Don, Sr. at her house exactly three times- all incorporating something about police work and alcohol.

She shook his hand, and tingles went down her spine, which she did her best to try to ignore. She was about to say something when Kaile did the V8 forehead slap and cursed loudly. "Fuck! I forgot my purse in one of the squad cars," she was yelling more swears as she took off for the doors. Angell turned back toward Flack, realizing with a start that she was completely alone with him.

"You do realize it's not often I get this good an opening," Flack said with a cheeky smile, which Angell found herself starting to adore.

She immediately knew to what he was referring. "Please. I've heard them all and it becomes the damned most annoying thing," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"You handled Houlihan and Jefferson pretty well."

Another eye roll from Jessica. "Ha. I don't think they really got the hint."

He laughed. More tingles. "It's not often that Ricky Houlihan gets turned down, especially with such..." he tried to think of a word to describe her less-than-graceful dismissal of her two admirers, but failed. "You seriously damaged his pride and, I quote, his 'perfect record,'" he said, putting air quotes around the last words.

"Perfect record of what?"

"Every woman he's asked out in this department has said yes. Except you, obviously," he added with another adorable, cheeky smile.

It was Angell's turn to laugh. There was a pause, and then he said, "Wait... You're the one who ran into me this morning, aren't you?"

That blush that Jessica had known lay in wait sprung forth, planting itself firmly on her face. She couldn't believe the man made her blush. The last time she could recall blushing was in junior year of high school when her boyfriend and given her a major french kiss in front of the entire school at a pep rally. And Jessica thought that she was blushing harder now than she was then. What the hell was wrong with her? Angell looked at her shoes, which were actually murdering her feet. She laughed a little, waiting for some of the heat to subside before looking up again. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

He faked thought for a millisecond, "Probably not."

Talking to this Don Flack felt surprisingly easy, so right. Angell felt she could say anything without carefully considering it beforehand. She wasn't even worried about flirting, which was a surprise to herself. Everyone who wasn't in a convent (maybe even them...) would be falling over themselves to get five minutes with this guy, and Angell wasn't even trying to score a date. In the short few minutes that she'd known him, _really _known him, it morphed into feeling like they'd known each other forever.

"No fucking way Batman would beat Spiderman." Jessica had no idea how they'd even gotten on this topic, and the oddity of it hadn't really struck her yet.

"Are you kidding me? Batman could kick Spiderman's ass," she argued, with an enviable amount of vehemence.

"Yeah? With what? All Batman did was ride around in his Batmobile all day with Robin. Meanwhile, Spiderman has superhuman strength and speed and can shoot spiderwebs from his wrists. How could Batman ever top that?"

Jessica was about to counter his argument when Kaile walked back in, talking on her cell phone. "You owe me, Kev." There was a pause. "I'll be there soon." She snapped her phone shut, replacing it in her bag. She walked over to where Don and Angell were, him on his chair, and she perched on the edge of his desk. After a quick assessment of the pair's positions, Kaile looked apologetically in Jessica's direction. "I'm really sorry, Angell, but no drinking for me tonight. My niece needs a babysitter this evening, and obviously, I'm the only option. And to babysit that little hellraiser, I really need to be sober."

Her response made Angell laugh, but she knew she should've been more disappointed, which she was, because Kaile was pretty awesome, but no drinks with Kaile meant more time with the god sitting in front of her. "That blows," Angell told her, trying to not sound eager. "Maybe some other time?"

"Definitely."

After setting a new date for their drinking escapade, and exchanging hugs, Kaile was out the door, which left only Jessica and Don in the precinct. They were silent for a few seconds, which actually wasn't awkward, surprisingly. It felt too good being near him to feel awkward. "Well, damn," she said. As happy Jessica was to be near Don, drinking with Kaile Maka sounded like something that would be incredibly fun.

"If you want, I could be your drinking buddy," Don suggested with another cute smile. After he saw her look, he added, "Strictly as friends."

The small part of Jessica's brain that dealt with rationality began to complain that he was only taking her so he could get her drunk and have sex with her. But the emotional part of her brain had a counter argument. How bad could the man be if he would honestly discuss Batman and Spiderman without laughing? His 'strictly as friends' order was a mixed reaction. She had definite rules that would not be broken about having a relationship about someone she worked with, especially in their line of work, even more so that he outranked her. If they had a public relationship, Jessica knew she'd be accused of 'sleeping her way up the ranks.' She'd been accused of the very thing in the past, even though she hadn't been sleeping with anyone at the time. She was a little bummed about the obvious cons about a relationship with him, but the idea of friends sounded appealing. Even if it wasn't 'with benefits,' Don Flack seemed like a sweet, funny, honest, and fun man. Jessica always appreciated those qualities, and just because he was a guy didn't mean being friends wouldn't be just as good as a relationship.

"Sounds great. But I'm warning you, I hold my liquor well. I would not recommend challenging me to a drinking game. 'Cause I'll win."

Flack laughed, and Jessica felt the tingles shoot through her again, but they were becoming easier to ignore the more she felt them. "I'll give you a run for your money."

"Just don't be a sore loser when it's all over, okay? A depressed drunk is worse than an angry drunk."

He laughed as they both stood, heading for the exit. They left the precinct, a comfortable camaraderie between them.

She smiled as they walked out of the doors. She knew that she could get used to this.


End file.
